


The Song of Chrysanthemums

by my_orgel



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, M/M, Romance, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7989001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_orgel/pseuds/my_orgel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as a mere babe leaves their mother’s womb, they are told the myth of the blue chrysanthemum. The dragon, scales royal blue and gold in colour, lives within the fields of flowers just outside the royal palace; a forbidden area, one that even the most valiant hunter or soldier would never dare to cross. As the moon appears from behind the clouds as midnight, it’s glistening tail can be seen, accompanied by the melancholic song of its former lover. One should do their best to stay away from it, at all costs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Song of Chrysanthemums

Taemin sighs as he sinks into the chrysanthemums, the familiar soft tickle of the petals welcoming him home. It’s been a long day, a day filled with anger, fear, the usual taunts from the villagers, and at the late hour of twelve all he yearns for is the healing notes of song which always lull him to sleep. Turning his head towards the moonlight slowly appearing behind the castle towers, he waits. But nothing comes, and he is met with the sound of crickets chirping in the night. Confused, Taemin sits up, eyebrows furrowing inwards, mouth settling itself into a soft pout. On a normal night he would’ve gone back to the lake; the only other place peaceful enough to sooth him to sleep. But as the castle flags sway in the wind, the sound of the palace horses trotting through the gates an annoying sound at the back of his head, he decides that tonight is not a normal night.  Without a second thought, he transforms, the flowers waving in succession from the gust of wind his wings emit and soars into the sky in search for the lost song.

He finds himself on the ground of the highest tower, the large crescent shaped window standing opposite seemingly tiny compared to his large frame. Taemin transforms, shivering as the bristling cold of winter seeps into his skin, already missing the warmth of the chrysanthemum petals. With careful steps he approaches the window, and finds fleeting comfort seated beside the exotic plants adorning the frame, its large leaves concealing his figure.

A sound catches his attention. He stifles a gasp behind the royal blue robe wrapped around him as he spots a young man entering the room. He’s tall and study, and as he stretches his arms and yawns Taemin catches the silver of his pale stomach previously hidden by his tunic, eyes refusing to leave even after it has disappeared again. The young man settles at the large piano in the corner of the room, his fingers flexing over the keys in familiarity. Taemin inhales sharply –  _he_  must be the source of the music. His whole body thrums with anticipation as the young man gently presses his index finger on one of the keys, his foot slipping of the ledge as he leans forward to hear better. He closes his eyes, and the familiar sound of the haunting melody fills his body with comfort, effectively ridding him of the tiredness and negativity that had built up within him throughout the day. He forgets he’s sitting on an uncomfortable window ledge, legs numb from his position, and is instead taken on a journey; through busy market streets, bristling cold of winter, and the warmth of a home-lit fire.

After a few moments he opens his eyes – when did the music stop? But he has no time to dwell on the question as he meets eyes with the young man sitting at the piano. Taemin freezes; he should leave. He  _needs_  to leave, before the young man reports him for trespassing, before a familiar fire appears in his eyes like all the others, and he almost does before a soft cough stops him in his tracks. The young man had stood up during his internal panicking, piano sheets on the floor, right hand gripping the back of his chair.

“Would…would you like me to continue?”

Taemin doesn’t know what to do; he really needs to leave now, but the warmth running through his veins after the first listen forces him to nod stiffly, and the man smiles, turning around to pick up the sheets and settle himself back on the chair. Taemin, mouth still opened in a mixture of surprise and fear, also settles back into his previous position.

“You can come closer, if you’d like”.

Taemin shakes his head; this is enough for now. With a nod and a soft intake of breath, the young man begins to play again, a different melody now, and once again Taemin finds himself on a journey –  this time, with a companion. The room is filled with silence after the ring of the last note fades out, and the young man looks up, hoping to see the face of serenity he saw earlier. But all he sees is the moon slowly disappearing behind the clouds; the boy is gone. As he closes the lid of the piano, large dark eyes at the back of his mind, something blue on the corner of the ledge catches his eye and he walks towards it. It’s a chrysanthemum; he recognizes it as one belonging to the field of flowers that lies not too far from the castle. He picks it up, gently touching the royal blue petals as if made from glass; the man earlier was wearing a robe of this colour.  _A present, a_   _thank you; a promise to return tomorrow_. The sound of the chamber door opening wakes him from his pondering.

“Crown prince, it is late. As much as I adore the sound of your pieces, do you not think it is time for you to rest? A long day awaits you”.

It’s Minho, his personal guard, the gentle smile and hand absentmindedly playing with the door knob reminding him that he has duties to attend to in just a few hours. “Thank you, Minho. I’ll be sure to take my rest now; you too, please. I wish you sweet dreams” Minho nods, not missing the blue flower clasped tightly in the crown princes’ right hand as he turns and shuts the door behind him.

 

The castle soon becomes a familiar place for Taemin. After dwelling on it the first night, the chrysanthemum petals tickling his cheeks and toes, he decides that he wants to continue taking the risk. “The sight of that man before I die, the sound of his song playing as I take my last breath…it wouldn’t be a bad way to go, would it?” There is a breeze, and the flowers on either side nod languidly in agreement. Taemin smiles; if anything, he trusts their judgement. So that is how he finds himself on the ledge of the young man’s window ledge every night, after cold winter days and heavy rain, waiting to be comforted by the gentle sound of the piano and the warm smile of the young man. After the 27th day, as the last note rings and Taemin gets ready to set off back to the fields, the young man asks him to stay. Taemin turns, and is met with the widest smile he’s ever seen. It’s bright, slightly crooked, and the eyes are filled with questions, hope, and a need for companionship. Taemin can’t stop the corners of his mouth turning upwards in response, quickly hopping from the ledge to join the young man in his room.

The young man’s name is Jinki he learns, and he’s actually the crown prince. Taemin’s eyes had widened; he was not expecting that, but the lavish furniture adorned in exotic fabric and jewels tell him that it actually explains a lot. But the young man does not have a royal air to him, Taemin thinks. He’s slightly clumsy, always tripping over his long sleeping garments he chooses to lounge in. He’s soft spoken and calm, his gentle voice a sharp contrast to what he expects a future king to sound like. He speaks of music and dreams, rather than riches and brides.  _But despite all of this Taemin thinks Jinki is special; even without the title of ‘crown prince’_.

Jinki likes to talk; especially relaying the stories his messenger and closest friend Jonghyun had collected during his travels. He speaks with confidence, his mellow voice just as gentle as the songs he plays on the piano, arms big in their gestures and eyes twinkling with mirth as he slips in a few jokes (Taemin doesn’t always understand them, but he laughs anyway – the smile of the young prince becoming his new favourite sight after the sun setting behind the highest mountain in the land). However, he realizes that Jinki is pretty naïve, mistakes littering his narratives and confusion occasionally shadowing his features as he tries to relay information. So Taemin shares his own stories; of flying, the chrysanthemums, of the many unknown creatures hidden within the forest, hands absentmindedly wringing his royal blue robe as he speaks. He purposely leaves out the shaking fists and dreams of fire – Jinki doesn’t need to know that. The young prince listens eagerly, eyes shining with interest and mouth rounded, as he litters Taemin’s stories with soft gasps and mumbles of admiration.

One night, as the room silently hums with memories of the previous melody, Taemin moves from his position next to Jinki, choosing to gently lay his head on his lap instead. A flush dusts his cheeks – oh god, he should’ve asked before laying on his highness like this, shouldn’t he? But as he is about to get up, he feels a hand in his hair, gently moving stray strands falling onto his face. Taemin relaxes, letting out a shaky breath as he becomes compliant under Jinki’s hands. Moments pass.

“I wish I had your eyes, Taemin”. Taemin looks up, confused, and waits for Jinki to continue. Jinki lets out a soft sigh, fingers softly caressing the side of Taemin’s face “You’ve seen so many amazing things during your travels, things that only I could dream of. The views from the castle are amazing, exquisite even, but…it’s nothing like what you or Jonghyun have experienced. It’s my greatest wish, to see what lies outside the castle walls”. He smiles, but it’s a different one than what Taemin is used to and he doesn’t like it. At all.

“I’ll take you” he says, brows furrowed in determination as he gets up and turns to the prince . Jinki's hands still, hovering where Taemin's head previously was.

“Taemin…are you sure? Is it safe? How- ”

“Don’t worry, it’s possible. You’re not the first person I’ve carried”. Taemin swiftly walks towards the window ledge, feet ghosting above the ground. As he grabs the window frames, he turns and is met with the eyes of a slightly dazed, but excited Jinki. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” and with that, he’s gone, Jinki only catching a whisper of Taemin’s gold wings as he soars into the sky. A blue chrysanthemum lays on the ledge; _a thank you._

 

Jinki can’t concentrate the next day when Jonghyun arrives, filled to the brim with a ‘truly thrilling’ story from his recent trip to the next kingdom.

“Oh Jinki, you should’ve seen it! I’m telling you, it was the biggest beast I’ve ever seen; Kibum almost – hey, are you even listening?” Jinki scratches his head, the sheepish grin on his face telling Jonghyun all he needs to know. “You’ve been distant lately. Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine! Perfect, even”

Perfect?

That piques Jonghyun’s interest and he leans forward, a sly grin forming as Jinki moves further back on his bed. “You’ve got a secret! No, don’t even try to interrupt me; we’ve known each other for way too long to keep secrets without at least guessing”

“I…I really can’t say much” Jinki tries to hide the grin pulling at the corners of his lips as he thinks of Taemin (Jonghyun takes note of this), trying to form the right words to explain his recent happiness.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me. But…just be careful, okay? I’d hate to see anything happen to you”

Jonghyun gets up, brushing invisible dirt of his tunic as he smiles at Jinki. “I’ll see you later, Crown prince. Oh, and make sure you give those chrysanthemums a little watering – they look like they need it”. With a wink, Jonghyun leaves and Jinki is alone, the vase of chrysanthemums suddenly looking a little more out of place than they did earlier.

 

 

Jinki’s knuckles are white as he grips tightly onto the soft golden fur, Taemin’s gentle breathing calming him only slightly as he lays on top of the dragon’s back.

“Are you ready?”

“Just go, Taemin. If you ask again I think my legs will make a decision for me”

Taemin chuckles, the low rumble causing the golden fur to caress Jinki’s chin. He smiles.

“Ok…here we go”

And they’re off. Jinki doesn’t even realize they’re flying until they’re almost halfway towards their destination, the feeling of flight akin to laying on the softest silks. Taemin is quiet, and for once Jinki is glad. He’s too enamored by the view before him: the dazzling green of the trees, the sky; a deep purple fading into onyx as it prepares to welcome the moon, the circles of lights coming from the villagers’ houses below. Taemin soon lands, feet landing on the grass with a soft thud. He transforms, expecting Jinki to have moved away, but as the glowing lights slowly fades he notices Jinki’s hands gripping tightly to his robes. “Jinki are you okay? If you’re going to be sick –”

“I’m okay. I’m okay” The crown prince straightens his back, the hand previously attached to the dragon’s robes finding its way to Taemin’s own smaller one. Their hands are linked without any words, a tight squeeze the first step of their journey.   

 

They walk. They walk for what feels like a thousand years. Taemin, not used to the feeling of tiredness in his legs, begs Jinki to stop several times “It’ll be faster if we fly, Jinki! We’ll see so much more!”. But Jinki refuses every time. The eyes, hands, and feet that spent 20 years within the castle walls refuse to fall into temptation as they soak in the new experience. The cushion soft moss beneath his feet and find their way between his toes; the golden flowers by the river, pleasing to the eye; the winged spirits swinging from the trees; Taemin is forced to use his brain and body to the max with Jinki, but he can’t bring himself to mind.

“Taemin, what is this?”

Jinki is crouched on the ground, holding what looks like a golden locket. Taemin’s eyes widen.

“Jinki, put that down and walk towards me”

Jinki ignores him, scooping the golden locket and letting out a shout of exclamation almost immediately.

“Another one! Taemin, look at this!”

Taemin limbs move without warning, knocking the gold jewelry out of Jinki’s hands. They fall to the ground, disintegrating with contact. Jinki stares at the empty spot, fear filling his veins.

“Don’t touch anything without asking, please!” Taemin’s voice trembles. “Those lockets…they belong to the souls of wanderers who dwell within the forests. They lure humans to their location, using beautiful items even animals would find hard to resist. Unless you want you want to become an empty shell for them to dwell in, I’d suggest you keep away from anything that looks out of place within nature”.

“I’m…sorry” Jinki scratches his head, willing the tears that threaten to fall to leave. “Everything is just so new, I didn’t even think-”

“It’s okay”. A sigh. “Come, I have something to show you”

And as Taemin grabs his hand, his smaller ones disappearing in his, Jinki can’t help but wonder what he’d do without the dragon by his side; in the castle or not.

 

“Has…How…”

Jinki has no words as he stares at the view in front of them, hand warm thanks to Taemin.

It’s beautiful. Oh god, it’s so beautiful, and Jinki can’t even believe he’s standing here, right now, with Taemin. A frozen lake lays before them, the thin sheen of ice illuminated by the warmth of the moon. Tall, sloping trees surround it, the icicles forming at the tips of the branches reminding Jinki of the chandeliers in the main dining room of the castle. The sky, previously a deep purple, is now a deep onyx, and Jinki feels like he could lose himself in the beauty if he continues to stare.

“This lake, is special to me. I don’t have many memories of my childhood, but I do remember laying here, after being chased”

Jinki turns to Taemin, confusion crossing his features. “They say I’m cursed, the people. They say I should stay away from them, but they don’t tell me why. I’m just like them!” Taemin’s voice trembles, and as a tear escapes his closed eyelids Jinki takes both of his into his own, the right cold and hard compared to the other. It seems like what Taemin is about to say is something he's been holding in for a while, so Jinki stays silent, allowing the young dragon to speak.

“There’s only one way to break the curse, they said. Something about love”

“Sounds a bit cliché to me”

Taemin lets out a bitter laugh, eyes softening as he slowly turns Jinki’s hands over in his own.

“It is. Too good to be true, to be honest. I’ve never really thought about it until now. After I met you, I mean. I don’t know. I don’t know what this is, and I’m not even sure what you are to me. All I know is that whether this is the cure to the curse or not, I really would like to be with you. For as long as possible.”

Taemin lowers his gaze, hands now apart from Jinki’s, fiddling with the hem of his robe. He suddenly feels cold.

“Taemin”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Please, let’s just forget-”

He’s cut off by a warm hand on his cheek, a wave of nostalgia washing over him as he remembers the first time he experienced this in the warmth of the princes’ lap. The prince’s hand gently runs down his face, soft but firm – a contrast to his own calloused and marked – and ends its journey by cupping his chin, angling his face so he’s closer to Jinki’s. The young prince opens his mouth to speak, and the warm air which leaves it caress Taemin’s lips. He’s warm.

“Let’s not forget. Let’s just be us, for as long as possible”

And before Taemin can reply, Jinki is kissing him, lips soft on his own, hands finding their way into his long hair. He lets out a sigh, a sigh of happiness, and his eyes close as he thinks of how amazing it feels to have the crown prince so close like this. His hands in Taemin’s hair, Taemin’s hands laid flat on Jinki’s chest, heartbeat fluttering underneath his fingertips. He’s warm, and as they slowly part, the young dragon’s eyes roams over the prince’s delicate features. His small eyes, shining in the moonlight; his plump lips, wet and pink, softly curved in content. His cheeks, flushed and littered with beauty marks – like tiny signatures God had placed to mark his creation. Taemin’s world seemed to stop at that moment, the crown prince the only point of focus. The light of the moon illuminates the figures, the soft glow appearing under their feet only visible to the silence which surrounds them.

 

Taemin is not one to remember dates. Living alone for most of his life, only accompanied by the whispers of the chrysanthemums, he’s never really had to. No birthdays to remember, no anniversaries, no plans or events to keep track of, note down and separate into categories. But he does know the sun has risen 33 times since his confession to Jinki by the lake. Notices the changes in the trees, the new additions to the large willow that leads into the forest. He feels the stubble on Jinki’s chin, the tiny strands of hair tickling his cheeks when he greets the young prince in the morning, head nestled safely under his, legs tangled beneath the silk bedsheets. He notices his change in speech, once slow and careful, now quick and cheerful, mouth shaped in a round circle as he babbles along to the plants about the new book Jinki is reading. As usual, the chrysanthemums listen intently, petals shaking in mirth at all the right moments. He notices the sudden commotion in the castle, masked men now a common sight in the early hours of morn as they rush in and out, herbs clutched tightly to their chests, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Taemin means to ask Jinki about this, but is once again distracted by the sweet words whispered into his ears, the hum of delight as a finger is slowly run down the small of his back as day slowly turns to night. He’ll ask later; they have more than enough time for questions.

 

The sun has risen 40 times since that night, and Taemin sits in the chrysanthemum fields, the crown prince’s head leaning against his inner thigh. Jinki hums, a soft melody that could rival the royal garden’s roses in its beauty. The chrysanthemums sway in time with the gentle notes; they and Taemin a more valuable audience than the large crowds his father always promises. Jinki suddenly stops, turning to Taemin, a thin sheen a sweat on his forehead.

“Do we still have any more strawberries left?” Taemin grins

“I’m pretty sure you’ve eaten them all, Jinki”

The prince laughs, and reaches into the pockets of the dragon’s robes. After a moment his hand reappears, fingertips tinted red from the juices.

“Come a little closer, I’ll feed you”

And Taemin gladly complies, making sure not to let any of the juice go to waste as he hesitantly licks Jinki’s fingertips. Heat spreads across the prince’s cheeks and ears with every contact, his eyes refusing to leave the sight of Taemin’s now red lips.

“What are you staring at? Is there something on my face?”

It’s a seemingly innocent question, but the glint of tease in Taemin’s eyes tells him he knows very well why he’s staring. As Jinki laughs, Taemin smiles – is there really anything more beautiful than this sound? – but his smiling eyes are soon filled with worry as Jinki doubles over, his coughs sounding harsh and rough. Jinki scrambles, looking for his handkerchief. An especially loud cough, and the handkerchief is quickly folded in half; the new red splatters not missed by Taemin’s watchful eyes.

“Jinki…what was that?”

“What was what?”

“Your handkerchief…it was white when we left the castle. That’s blood Jinki. You were coughing up blood!”

Taemin’s eyes are wide with fear, his hands trembling as he stares at Jinki. Thinking about it, Jinki did look a lot paler, sitting on under the sun; the darkness of the palace chambers not being able to hide his sunken eyes and shining forehead. Jinki’s head falls, letting out a low chuckle. Taemin raises an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to worry, Taemin. It’s true, I have been under the weather as of late. But my parents have access to some of the greatest healers in the land, and they have been providing me with care for the past week. I’ll get through this”

Taemin remembers the masked men with the furrowed brows; they were probably the healers Jinki was talking about. He lets out a sigh.

“You’re right. I’m sorry Jinki; I can’t help myself but worry about you”

Jinki smiles, his gentle eyes ridding Taemin of all his worries. Jinki will be okay. They’ll be okay.

 

Taemin is not one to remember dates. Living alone for most of his life, only accompanied by the whispers of the chrysanthemums, he’s never really had to. But he knows that the sun has risen 92 times since that night on the lake, and 27 times since Jinki soiled his handkerchief. He notices the changes around them; the slow goodbye of the snow, the gentle drip of water from the icicles hanging above the lake. He notices the disappearance of the stubble on Jinki’s chin, removed daily by his own shaking hands as he sits upon Jinki’s lap in the royal bathroom. He notices the whispers between the guard and the messenger; he recognizes him as Jonghyun, the man who holds all of Jinki’s stories and Minho – the one who has the kind smile. Their voices are soft, but as he sits on the highest tower, hearing enhanced due to his curse, he knows they’re talking about the prince. He knows they’re worried about him; the harsh intakes of breath and sighs all too familiar to him. But Taemin tries not to worry. Tries not to get caught up in their emotions. Jinki told him not to worry, and Taemin trusts him.

 

However, his trust starts to waver.

 

“Jinki, can you play it again? This one…I think it’s my favourite of them all”

The prince smiles, hand coming down to settle itself on the head resting on his right thigh. It’s the early hours of morn and the moon shines bright outside the castle walls, rays of light illuminating the two figures side by side in the highest chamber. Once again the young dragon has found himself at the castle, summoned by the call of comfort and release. The prince welcomes him with open arms.

“Actually Taemin, I have a new piece to play. One that’s especially close to my heart at the moment”

“Oh! Let’s hear it then”

Jinki closes his eyes, flexing his fingers over the keys in familiarity as he prepares himself. Playing the piano was something that came as a second nature to him; like a natural instinct, ever since he started learning as a child. He’s never had trouble playing for anyone before, but as Taemin sits by his side, eyes shining with excitement and hands fiddling with the edges of the prince’s robe, Jinki finds that his heart is starting to beat a little faster than usual. He places a finger on the first key, and the rest follow in succession. Taemin lets out an inaudible gasp – this piece isn’t like the others he’s heard before. Instead of wants and dreams and imagination, this one speaks of peace. It speaks of experience; of comfort and love, the sound of the sun rising over a lake, laughter in the breeze. The young dragon is taken on a journey he recognizes, and as the piece comes to a gentle end, the last note ringing softly in the silence of the room, Taemin thinks he knows why.

“You…you wrote this for me, didn’t you?”

The prince smiles.

“I guess it was obvious, huh? It’s for you. More so, it’s about you; everything we’ve done ever since you first snuck onto my terrace” Taemin chuckles, remembering his fears the first time he met eyes with the prince. He never expected to be familiar with the castle; let alone another human. He wants to thank Jinki; there’s so many things he wants to say to the young prince right now, right at this moment. But he doesn’t, choosing to take his hand into his own and trace the soft lines of the prince’s palm, imprinting the path in his mind. Unspoken words hang in the air, rivaling the brightness of the chandeliers. Taemin looks up, and under the light of the chandelier he spots a bead of sweat running down the side of the prince’s face.

“You must be tired, Jinki. Let’s get ready to sleep”

And Jinki nods, Taemin not missing the soft sigh of relief that leaves the prince’s lips as he helps him out of the chair. Shaking hands reach up to undo the golden buttons that hold the royal garments together, and Taemin gently swats them away. One button, two, three. The trousers; one button, two, three. The hands that hold tight onto his shoulders are clammy; the skin damp and hot with fever. Jinki is guided to his bed, and the garments are placed in the hamper, ready to be collected the next day. Taemin disappears into the washroom, returning with a basin of water and hand towels. Kneeling down by the side of the bed, he sinks the towels into the cold water, wrings them out, and starts to gentlly wipe the prince’s burning skin.

“Taemin, you don’t have to –"

He’s silenced immediately with a soft smile, and watches Taemin bring him comfort. After a while, once the young dragon finishes with the towels and hums the melody of his song to lull to the prince to rest, he falls asleep, hands entwined with Taemin’s.

The young dragon stares, eyes roaming of the pretty silhouette of the young prince, the uneven rising of his chest, eyes shut tight. There’s something wrong with him. Something is wrong – his fever should be gone by now, right? Taemin shakes his head, bringing his hands to smoothen the lines of worry on his brow. No. Jinki said he’s being taken care of the best healers in the land. He trusts them. Well, he thinks he does.

Taemin doesn’t move, and lays by his side throughout the night. The soft golden glow underneath them goes unnoticed by the two, only visible by the wailing chrysanthemums watching closely on the side.

 

“Taemin, sing for me”

Taemin looks up, hands entwined tightly with young prince’s. The sun has risen 115 times since their confessions at the lake, and 50 times since Jinki soiled his handkerchief. However, the sun refuses to rise today and instead the village is greeted by clouds, dark in colour and sorrow. The gentle sound of the rain hitting the window ledge had acted as a source of background music for the two, as Taemin told stories of magic, beans, and courageous little boys. Jinki listened intently, smiling, laughing, and frowning at all the right moments. But the young dragon notices the ways the prince’s eyes glaze over when he thinks Taemin isn’t looking at him; the way the heat has slowly left his body, hands cold and clammy, knuckles white as they wrap around Taemin’s. He notices the differences in the way Jinki speaks; words once filled with confidence and delight now screams exhaustion and pain, eyes no longer twinkling as they used to. Taemin is worried.

“What would you like me to sing?”

“Your song. The song of chrysanthemums”

Taemin chuckles; he’d known the prince would choose his song for him again. A song for chrysanthemums. There were no lyrics, but it told their story; the young dragon had sung it to the prince more than 23 times this week without complaint.

“Alright, your highness” He raises his arms, twirling his hands in exaggerated manner. He looked similar to the dancers his father often brought to the castle, and Jinki laughs softly beneath the silk sheets.

“My song, a song of chrysanthemums”.

 

“Taemin, what are they saying? The chrysanthemums”

126 days.

The young dragon sits against the large oak tree opposite the lake, the young prince swaddled in the finest blankets leaning against his chest. It’s the late hour of midnight, and the young dragon had struggled to sneak the prince out of the castle. The king had angrily barked orders at Minho to guard the door of his chambers with all his might, to not let anyone come in apart from him and his wife, Jonghyun, and the royal healers. The young dragon had listened carefully by the exotic plants framing the window, covering the chambers in a blue haze allowing visiters to see what they wanted to see. It wouldn’t hold for long, but he knew the prince couldn’t stand spending another minute within the castle walls.

“They’re scared”

“Scared? Scared of what?” Jinki lets out a succession of loud coughs, body folding and eyes shut tight in pain. After a few moments Taemin gently pulls him in back into his previous position, hand resting on the prince’s clammy forehead. Jinki lets out a sigh.

“Tell them they don’t need to be afraid. They’ve got you, and now me. No matter what, we’ll both be here for them”

The young dragon’s eyes prick with tears at Jinki’s words. He knows why the chrysanthemums are scared, but he can’t tell Jinki. Not now. He still doesn’t believe it himself.

 

“Taemin, I love you”

139 days.

“I know, and I love you too, Jinki”.

 

 

“Jonghyun said goodbye to me today. He said he’s going on a journey, one that he won’t return from for a while”

“Oh, really?” Their hands are entwined. 150 days.

“Yes. But it was strange – Jonghyun, I mean. He looked so sad, I thought he’d be really excited to go on another trip. But when I mentioned him coming back as soon as he could to tell me his adventures, he looked scared. Stopped speaking. He said he hopes he can, and left”

Taemin’s heart stops. He swears it does at Jinki’s words. He’s glad the prince is once again leaning on his chest, unable to see the tears decorating his face. The young dragon tightens his hold on the cold, fragile hand of the prince’s.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to hear them, Jinki. One day”.

 

Taemin isn’t one to remember dates. Living alone for most of his life, only accompanied by the whispers of the chrysanthemums, he’s never really had to. No birthdays to remember, no anniversaries, no plans or events to keep track of, note down and separate into categories. But he knows he’ll remember this one.

The chrysanthemums kiss his toes and nuzzle his limbs as he sinks into the field at the early hours of morn. The night was spent in the chambers of the young prince, legs tangled under the silk sheets, whispers of love filling the room with warmth. He hadn’t wanted to leave the prince’s side, especially since a nauseous feeling twirling in his stomach had arisen that morn, but the heavy steps of the royal healers had driven him out, leaving the young prince sleeping alone. He sighs.

“I’m sure he’s fine. I’m sure the healers are cleaning him up as we speak, joking around and helping him to get ready for the day. They’ll try and feed him that disgusting glop they say will make him better, and Jinki will eventually comply” Taemin lets out a hollow chuckle. “Then he’ll probably beg me to take him back to that bakers he loves – and I’ll agree, of course.  We’ll sit by the lake, him munching on a jam-filled scone, and me a cinnamon bun. I’ll wipe the flour off his bottom lips, and he’ll try and kiss me. Again” He blushes, and the chrysanthemums stand still. “Eventually we’ll come back to the castle, and he’ll play my song. My song. And we’ll stay like that, together until tomorrow. I’m sure he’s okay. I’ll see him soon”.

The chrysanthemums stay silent.

It’s midday, and Taemin is woken by the sound of rain falling harshly against the ground. He’s about to roll over again, until he hears it. The sound of heavy footsteps. A mother’s cry. A scream of despair. Without a second thought he flies to the castle, the only thing on his mind the young prince’s smile. Jinki. His prince.

 

 

Jonghyun sighs, the large bag filled with treats heavy on his back. It’s the late hour of 9, and he’s returning from the crypt. Eyes sunken and hollow in appearance, they widen as they spot a lone figure outside the palace walls. It’s Minho, the kind Minho, and he’s crouched on the bottom step, a cigar between his lips and a blue flower in his hand.

“Minho”

The young guard looks up, and a smile brightens his features instantly.

“Jonghyun. I guess you’ve paid your visit today”

“Yes, I was just there. You?”

“I was about to go. But I couldn’t. I don’t know, I just needed a break. Some time to think. Met an old friend” He waggles the cigar between his lips, letting out a sigh as he does so.

Jonghyun takes in the sight in front of him. Minho, the man who always lectures others on health; the one who had stopped the young prince from smoking and drinking after his uncle’s death; the one who had vowed never to do anything that could ruin his body. Things have changed, since that afternoon. And he’s sure; in fact, he knows he has too.

The messenger opens his mouth to speak, when a loud noise forces the two to raise their heads towards the dark sky. A flash of gold and blue disappear behind the highest tower, accompanied by a melody.

“The song of chrysanthemums”

Jonghyun turns to Minho.

“You know it too?”

Minho lets out a soft smile.

“Of course. Guarding the prince’s chambers allowed me to learn a lot of things over the past few months”

Jonghyun settles next to Minho, knees brushing together, fingers inches from touching as they watch the dragon circle the tower.

“Jinki said something about that song. Before he…left”

Jonghyun’s stays silent. Minho continues, lighting his cigar in the dark of the night.

“If you hear this melody, the song of the chrysanthemums, know that it speaks of love. One that will last forever”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at fic writing, so all comments & suggestions are greatly appreciated! (thanks to all those who helped & inspired me; you know who you are! 6v6)


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